


Not Fade Away

by alicekittridge



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Present Tense, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicekittridge/pseuds/alicekittridge
Summary: In which some life is left behind to take another's place.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Not Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> A multi-chapter character study this time. I considered making it only a oneshot but then the work didn't feel too complete. So here we are. 
> 
> It's not rated for now, but that is subject to change later, as are the tags. 
> 
> Thank you for reading xx  
> \--  
> Title from Buddy Holly's song "Not Fade Away"

> _I’m gonna tell you how it’s gonna be_
> 
> _You’re gonna give your love to me_
> 
> * * *

** Dani **

DANI HAD READ something about ghosts once. It wasn’t very serious reading; she figured what was written was all speculation anyway. Yet the paragraph about presence stuck with her. Something about how the presence of ghosts came in different forms: the sudden chill of a room, or the unease one felt upon entering it; the feeling of being watched but not being able to see the source of the gaze. She had scoffed, then, but there’s none of that now. Her own ghost lives within her, this restless thing she must tamper down, whose eyes are never far away, whose reflection swims more into focus as the days wear on. It feels like a battle of wills. And of memory. And strength.

She finds herself drifting more and more. Almost like the aftermath of heartbreak, where one feels lost and shattered and aimless, but unlike heartbreak, where one can pick up the shattered pieces and be a different, glued-together version of themselves, this drifting is a loss of self. She’ll look inward and see water instead of her own feelings and thoughts. And there’s always someone else looking up from the depths, faceless gaze almost expectant, stance the posture of someone in wait, slowly losing patience.

Her hands work at drying a plate. The action is automatic but absent. She’s staring at a wall but her eyes do not see it. To her left, the plucking of the kitchen sink’s drain, the spray of water rinsing straggling bubbles.

“Oi,” comes Jamie’s soft voice. Far away. A warm hand settles on her shoulder. Dani’s head emerges from the water and to the shore of the kitchen. “Give it here.”

“Sorry,” she says quietly, handing the plate over.

“‘S all right.” Jamie places it carefully in the dish drainer. “Wonderland gettin’ any curiouser?”

“Impatient is the better word.” Dani leans against the countertop. She had only worked in the flower shop for the afternoon but the fatigue felt akin to a 40 hour work week.

Jamie’s elbow pauses in her peripheral vision. “Let’s chase that rabbit away for a bit,” she says.

Dani doesn’t hesitate to accept her elbow. The water is further away. Still hanging in the air, but far enough to be pushed from mind.

Jamie poses them. And before Dani knows it, they’ve begun swaying in a waltz. No music. Only an internal beat and the static of the apartment.

“Do you ever miss the early days?” Dani asks after a long silence. The room spins with their waltz. _Kitchen, two three; parlor, two, three…_

“No,” Jamie replies. “I think about ‘em, but that doesn’t mean I miss ‘em.”

“Things were much clearer then.” She buries her face in the curve of Jamie’s neck. There’s a trace of a perfume she’s forgotten the name of. There’s flowers and dirt and salt. It’s faint. Dani sighs. “Do you remember the day in the statue garden?” she asks quietly.

“Vividly.” There’s a smile in Jamie’s next words. “I wanted to duck behind a shrub and steal a kiss.”

“You stole plenty that evening.”

Jamie’s lips press against her hair. “I did.”

“The memories get fainter every day,” Dani continues. _Hallway, two, three; kitchen, two, three…_ “It’s like they’re photographs and they’re exposed to too much sun. And somehow I… feel the same.”

She senses the hesitation and the hurt in Jamie’s question. “What do you feel?”

_Parlor, two, three; kitchen, two, three…_

“The volume turning lower.” The examples stumble clumsily out. “I feel your touch and it isn’t heavy. I kiss you and I’m aware of you kissing me back but it doesn’t make me fly. You make love to me and it feels like embers… I can… I can see us, now, but it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life… I think back to that day and I’m envious of her. She could dance with you and nothing about it was background.”

Jamie pulls back. Her hands find Dani’s face, warm and gentle. “If it all feels like background,” she says, “find the foreground. Even if it’s just a temporary sensation. Better than feelin’ nothin’. All right?”

“One sensation at a time,” Dani whispers.

“Bang on.”

Soon the rooms aren’t perceived at all. It’s only the _one, two, three_ of the waltz, and the faint, flowery warmth of Jamie in her arms.

—

“CAN YOU DANCE, Miss Clayton?” Flora asked.

“All girls her age can dance,” Miles said.

“Not all,” Dani said. “I knew some who had two left feet.”

“That sounds very awkward,” Flora said. “I don’t think I have two left feet.”

“You certainly don’t. You’re a natural.”

Dani stood in the warm autumn sun beside a statue of a woman whose face was slowly being covered by moss, soaking in the golden light. Miles and Flora wove between the statues, smiling, shouting directions at each other. She was reminded of childhood dances with Edmund, and later the dances in high school where they had, inevitably, gone as each other’s dates. The memories had a bittersweet taste to them. She was fond of the moments, but not the feelings they generated.

Jamie came to stand beside her. A light scent of cigarette wafted from her clothes. “Shall we show the gremlins how it’s done?” she asked. “Or are you the one who’s got two left feet?”

Dani scoffed. “I don’t, thank you.”

“Come on, then. One wee dance.” She offered her left hand. Dani took it and walked with her to the middle of the statue garden. “You prefer a two-step or a waltz?”

“I’m following you,” Dani said.

The dance began with stumbling steps, but it wasn’t long until they were gliding over the grass. _One, two, three, one, two, three…_ What had been odd with Edmund now held no trace of the feeling.

“You weren’t lyin’,” Jamie said eventually.

“I don’t think I’m capable of lying to you.”

Dani could have kissed Jamie in front of the kids at the tender look that touched her face. But such public displays rarely saw light here; there was always something to interrupt the moment. Hannah and Owen strode across the lawn, the latter carrying a tray of sandwiches and glasses of water.

The afternoon wore pleasantly on. She and Jamie parted ways at the back door, a promise in the separating of their hands.

And as she usually did these days, Jamie came back in the dark.

Dani let Jamie lead her into the sweet-scented darkness of the greenhouse. The dance from earlier continued in a different fashion, the beats punctuated by kisses and the soft _thump_ of their coats as they hit the brick floor and the creak of the bench that settled with their weight. They’d done this once and thought about it since, wanted it to happen again, and the dream was alive. So clear. Even the plants, sleeping in their pots, seemed sharper, more defined. They were completely oblivious to the heavy air. And to Dani, it seemed only right to get a second chance at the kiss, even if it included a few embellishments.

Jamie’s hurried hands hovered over the sides of Dani’s parted jeans.

Dani pulled her closer. Smiled into the kiss. “I want you to keep going.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

She buried her face against Jamie’s neck. She smelled like flowers and dirt and a hint of bar soap. So good. So right.

She didn’t mind being smothered in that smell.


End file.
